Sure, the year of our Lord 2020 has not been the best of times, but we have our precious Premier League to save us. 

W

ith that sentiment, so begins our foul season. This is a chronicle of one man’s plight to reach the top. No trophy needed, just the joy of defeating eight million strangers in a meaningless internet game.

Each week, read my scintillating insights on English football and get the hottest tips on rising FPL stars. Or enjoy the view as my team sputters out in a very public embarrassment display of my questionable analytical skills. Either way, fun will be had by all.

T’was the heady days of 2014, back when hope still breathed the air fantastic and skies were not yet orange-hued. In those days, Premier League still struggled to find airtime on the ol’ American broadcast. Yet the bug infected me and same as many a young man whose fancy turned to English football, I found myself sucked into the dark world of Fantasy Premier League.

Flash forward several years. My best finish to date: 98,803. These must be the end times and yet this infernal game brings solace. This is a document of the dark COVID league kickoff, a season where the mere threat of a positive test could disrupt plans.

Friendo, you don’t have to read further. Turn around now. These are the bantz of one sad, strange lonely man watching other men chase a ball around in the vast solitude of empty stadiums.

Enjoy.